


The Nights Were Made For Saying Things You Can't Say Tomorrow Day

by Ineffable_Idiot



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, I can't replicate the beauty of the Drunk Scene but dammit I'll try, John Mulaney References, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mentions of the Deleted Bookshop scene, Miscommunication, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Rated T for language, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Touch-Starved Crowley (Good Omens), Typical Crowley Noises, drunken conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22216675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ineffable_Idiot/pseuds/Ineffable_Idiot
Summary: The night after Adam and Dog are united, Aziraphale and Crowley start drinking like it's the end of the world, because guess what? It is. Crowley ends up passing out on the couch in the back of the bookstore, and Aziraphale figures he might as well give sleeping a try before it's too late. After a while, he falls asleep on the opposite side of the couch. So it's odd when he and Crowley wake up entangled in each other, just before Gabriel and Sandalphon show up.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 171





	The Nights Were Made For Saying Things You Can't Say Tomorrow Day

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen a couple posts about how Crowley had spent the night at Aziraphale's shop in between episodes 1 & 2, so I made a rather self-indulgent fic out of it. You know, as you do.

"Well then," Aziraphale said, his heart dropping at what Crowley had just told him. He hesitated, because really, what could one possibly say to finding out that eleven years of attempting to sabotage the end of the world had all been for nothing? "Welcome to the end times." 

Crowley sank back in his seat with a dejected sigh, slipping off his glasses and pressing his hand against his temple. His golden irises had blown to each corner of his eyes, pupils slimmed to nothing but thin slivers of black.

"I don't suppose you think there's anything we can possibly do?" Aziraphale asked, ignoring how his heart sank with sympathy upon seeing just how much this stressed Crowley out as well. Putting that out of his mind made him realize exactly how utterly screwed they were if there wasn't a way to rectify their mistake. This whole time, he'd been giving Heaven excruciatingly detailed reports on just how good of a job he'd been doing raising Warlock to their side. From what Crowley had told him before, he'd been doing the same on his side. Aziraphale didn't even want to imagine how Gabriel or Michael or any of the archangels would react when he told them they'd all been following the wrong boy, and he _couldn't_ imagine how bad it would be for the demon across from him.

"Only one thing to do." Crowley said, leaning back before swinging himself out of his seat. "You still have any of that '61 Bordeaux?" he asked, already making his way over to where Aziraphale kept the good alcohol.

Aziraphale looked up at him confused. Of course he still had some, he only opened those when Crowley came over because Crowley loved them more than he did, but what did that have to do with their problem?

"Yes of course, but, why?"

"I figure we should enjoy it while we can." the demon responded simply, reentering the room with one bottle in each hand. As he sat back down and poured two glasses, Aziraphale gaped at him incredulously.

"You're giving up?" 

Crowley gazed back at Aziraphale sadly, holding out one of the cups of wine for him to take. "Much as I hate to say it, angel..."

"You're the one who convinced me to help you stop Armageddon in the first place! You can't just give up now!" Aziraphale exclaimed. Crowley did have a point that decade ago, when he first presented the idea of working together to stop The End. There was so much he'd come to love about this planet, and so much on this planet he'd come to love doing with Crowley, and soon it would all be going away, and for what? A look of determination crossed his face as he stood up abruptly. "No, there must be something we can do to fix this."

"And if there isn't?" Crowley countered, taking a sip from his glass. "It's the end of the world, angel. Now that we screwed up saving it, we don't have much time left." His voice took on the compelling tone it had whenever he was doing a temptation, or trying to talk Aziraphale into doing something. "Would you rather spend that time worrying about it, or..." _with me?_ he stopped himself from saying. "...enjoying it?"

Aziraphale took a moment to ponder what he had said. He truly would rather not have the final battle take place, but once again, Crowley had a point. They'd failed. There was no going back. And though he didn't have anyone to admit it to but himself, he would very much enjoy the evening in with Crowley, impending Armageddon or not. He sank back into his seat.

"I suppose you're right." Aziraphale conceded, accepting the glass of Bordeaux. "Besides, it would be a shame to let this go to waste."

The demon agreed by way of another gulp of wine.

* * *

By the time the sun had set over the horizon, they'd finished the two bottles of Bordeaux, had long since moved on to stronger types of alcohol, and were reminiscing about certain events they'd shared over the millennia. Crowley, now sprawled out across the back room couch, was listening to Aziraphale finish retelling the story about Gabriel and Sandalphon offering him a promotion back when he'd first opened his bookshop.

"It's a swell thing you left when you did, they turned around right where you were not a minute - moment later. You'd've been caught."

"Aah," Crowley waved his hand admonishingly. "I would not! You said it yourself to them, I'm cunning and wily!"

Aziraphale's eyebrows shot up. "You heard that? You left, I saw you left before that." 

"Didn't get that far."

"...Oh. Well." The angel took a slightly embarrassed sip of alcohol. "Ohh, did I thank you for the chocolates you gave me that day?"

"Ngk, ehh, psschh, if you're gonna thank me for something, I'm the reason you stayed here in the first place, so... nyeh." he said eloquently, sitting upright.

"What - how do you mean?" Aziraphale asked, cocking his head to the side. 

Crowley shrugged overdramatically. "I just let them think I told another demon a buncha, kkch, things about you being the best thwarter for me, so they'd let you keep thwarting." He watched as his words sunk in, and as a delighted smile took over Aziraphale's face.

"Oh, Crowley..."

The demon just waved his hand again as if to say 'forget about it' while he actually said "Mmneh.", using his free hand to down the rest of his glass.

"Really, Crowley, I'm... I'd say 'thank you', but I remember what you said in the Bastille, so I am extraordinarily grateful." Aziraphale beamed. "All this time, you..." _have always been so kind to me, have always looked out for me._ he wanted to say. But through the haze in his mind, he knew he was probably already on thin ice for thanking him anyway, so he just gestured at Crowley and moved on. "...and to think the archangels -" 

Keep in mind through this touching moment, they are still positively shit-faced. In a brilliant moment of word association, Crowley shot up and yelled, "FUCK the archangels!"

Aziraphale's eyes rounded in surprise.

"FUCK the archangels! Going around all, sckkch, "Oh, let's just put the best angel back in Heaven forever to work on our bollocks Plan, then we'll blow up his favorite planet!" What was She thinking when She put them in charge!?" Crowley had taken to pacing around the back room as he continued blaspheming. "And they're all "Fight to the death!" I don't want to fight you! This is ridiculous! They're all ridiculous!" he finished with a decisive swoop of his arm. 

He turned to face Aziraphale, who, without second thought muttered "Yeah, f- forget the archangels." into his wine glass. "Ohh, no." he added when his brain caught up to what he said. 

Crowley on the other hand, sputtered out a laugh. "Angel, it's the end of the world, and you still won't get on and just say 'fuck'?"

"No!" Aziraphale insisted. "It's unnecessary and rather unethical." 

"Course it is." 

"I... We ought to sober up before we say something we'll regret."

Crowley frowned, but nonetheless miracled himself sober, Aziraphale following suit seconds after. More wine bottles than should be considered healthy by any means refilled, and Crowley collapsed back onto the couch, limbs splayed every which way.

"I don't regret any of that. I meant everything I said, they're absolutely ridiculous."

"I don't want to fight you, either." Aziraphale quietly confessed, eyes glancing around as if afraid the archangels could somehow hear, and were about to come out and damn him on the spot.

Crowley immediately shut up, gaze softening as he carefully studied the angel in front of him. He longed to wipe the nervousness off Aziraphale's features, pull him over to sit next to him on the couch, hold his hands and tell him it would be alright, kiss his face until every worry for the future melted away into nothing but a bad afterthought.

He settled for a reassurance instead.

"Well, maybe we'll get lucky and I'll end up against Michael or someone."

Aziraphale sighed wistfully. "Yes, I suppose we might."

A few moments of the two silently wishing it didn't have to be this way passed before Crowley slid his sunglasses on and stood up. "Right, well I'm gonna head home, sleep one more time before I never can again." He began walking to the front door, and Aziraphale got up to walk with him. "If neither of us get called to our head offices tomorrow, I'll come pick you up and we can go do something before the planet turns to a war zone."

"Oh, that... sounds lovely. Absolutely. What were you thinking of doing?"

"Ehh, whatever you want, angel. G'night."

With a farewell nod, Crowley went to open the door and leave for the night. An idea popped into Aziraphale's head as Crowley took a step out the door, and before he could debate whether this was a good idea or not, he blurted it out.

"Or rather, you could, perhaps, stay the night here?"

Surprised, Crowley spun around on his heel. His eyebrows were raised, and thus visible over the top of his glasses, but Aziraphale wished the glasses were actually off so he could better gauge Crowley's reaction. 

"I'm positive no one from my side would come down to see me in the middle of the night, and instead of going all the way back to your place just to come right back tomorrow, you would already be here." Aziraphale hastily explained. Focusing more on trying to justify his offer, he didn't notice the smirk slowly taking over Crowley's face. 

"Are you trying to tempt _me_? Didn't think that was a part of our old Arrangement, Aziraphale." Crowley said teasingly, prompting a light pink to spread over the angels cheeks.

"No, that's... No, I am not! I'm simply offering my friend a place to sleep! And he can refuse the offer if he wants!" 

Crowley put a hand up in surrender, making Aziraphale stop rambling, and closed the door behind him as he stepped back through the threshold. His smirk faded a bit and he looked the angel dead in the eyes.

"You don't mind a demon spending the night in your bookshop?" 

"Well you're not just any old demon, you're my friend." Aziraphale answered obviously. "And besides, it's the end of the world, who would I be if I denied you? A - a place to sleep, that is?" 

It's a lucky thing that demons don't actually need air, because Crowley stopped breathing entirely at what Aziraphale said. "Ah, nggk, nyeh..." he shrugged along with his profound speech.

Relieved that Crowley didn't seem to pick up on his near-slip-up, Aziraphale led the both of them into the back room once again, turning off the lights in the front of the store. However looks can be deceiving, and though Crowley didn't _seem_ to notice it, he did, and mentally fretted over it the whole walk back to the back room.

One thing one would expect when staying over somewhere is a bed, and one thing Aziraphale does not have in his shop is a bed. Normal for a bookshop, and of course he could easily miracle one into the back room just for the night, but any and all of his thoughts were about the fact that _Crowley_ would be _spending the night_ with _him,_ and no further details than that. Crowley could also point out the lack of usual sleeping surfaces, but any and all of his thoughts were about the fact that _Aziraphale_ hadinvited him to _spend the night_ in his bookshop _with him,_ and no further details than that. 

Crowley did, however, think to miracle a pair of black silk pajamas onto his body before flopping onto the couch for the third time that night, taking up only one side of it rather than sprawling out all over it. 

Aziraphale grabbed a book off one of his shelves without looking to see what it was, and retook his seat in the chair across from the demon. He absentmindedly flipped through the pages, eyes skimming over the contents of the book uninterestedly before drifting back up to look at Crowley.

"Enjoy your rest, dear boy." Aziraphale said once he saw Crowley had gotten comfortable. 

"I'm sure I will. You know we don't need to sleep, but I swear if you get these bodies into the habit, they become addicted." 

"Oh. I've never actually slept before, so I'll take your word for it." Aziraphale commented in the same offhanded tone Crowley had used back in Rome when discussing oysters.

"Mmn. You should try it sometime before the world ends." Crowley said, just as offhandedly. The unspoken suggestion that Aziraphale join him hung in the air for a few tense moments of neither daring to initiate it. 

"I'm not entirely sure I'd know how to get to sleep if I tried." 

"Oh, it's easy. You just lay down, close your eyes and relax, and your body pretty much does the rest." Crowley explained, voice laced with a hint of that tempting tone again.

"Hmm. I suppose I'll have to make time to give it a try." Another moment of hesitant silence. "Right," Aziraphale piped up. "Good night, then." Taking more effort to than it probably should, he turned his attention back to the book.

Mildly disappointed but not exactly surprised Aziraphale didn't take the bloody hint, Crowley leaned his head back against the couch and let himself drift off. His body steadily slouched over the armrest as he sank deeper into sleep.

Aziraphale managed to keep himself busy reading for about an hour, if continuously getting distracted by every unconscious movement Crowley made and having to reread entire paragraphs counted as staying busy. After a good while debating back and forth in his head, he'd convinced himself that Crowley couldn't have been suggesting what he thought he was suggesting. _Could he?_

He glanced up at the sleeping demon. _No, of course not, don't be ridiculous._ He then noticed that Crowley's sunglasses were resting askew on his face. Aziraphale sighed incredulously, standing from his chair. _On the subject of ridiculous, that's a good way to break or lose a perfectly good pair of glasses._

Ever so quietly, as to not disturb him from his slumber, Aziraphale crept across the floor, crouching down in front of the sofa until his head was level with Crowley's. It's also a lucky thing that angels don't need air either, because Aziraphale didn't dare breathe as he carefully maneuvered the sunglasses off of Crowley's face.

Aside from a small shudder at the arms of his glasses brushing against his temples, Crowley didn't stir, much to the angels relief. Aziraphale folded in the arms, and reached around to set the glasses down on the coffee table behind him, lens facing up so as not to get scratched. Despite the stress of the now inevitable battle looming over the two, Crowley looked so peaceful as he slept, so content, and Aziraphale would be lying if he said the relaxation of sleeping wasn't something he wanted to experience as well. 

_He did say I ought to try it. And it's not as though I'll have much time to do so mere days before Armageddon. Perhaps..._

Moving very slowly so Crowley wouldn't wake, Aziraphale stood once more, stepped over the demons leg that hung off the sofa, and sat carefully on the other cushion. There wasn't much space between them, but it was enough so they had a minimal amount of room to move without touching. It wasn't enough to stop Aziraphale's heart from racing at their proximity, however.

It wasn't as though he didn't want contact with Crowley. Deep in the corners of his mind, down where he pushed every soft thought about his friend for their safety, that was one thing he'd love nothing more than to have. But even though they had a rather wonderful friendship, they were still enemies. Physical contact further than an accidental brush of the knuckles was dangerous for rivaling entities, alluring as it was. 

Further, Aziraphale didn't know exactly where Crowley stood on touching, especially with him. The last thing he wanted was to make his dear friend uncomfortable.

 _This is fine_ , Aziraphale told himself, closing his eyes like Crowley had said to do. _If I just manage to stay on this side, it will be perfectly fine. After all, it can't be that hard._

* * *

It was, in fact, that hard.

The first thing Crowley registered as he awoke the next morning was warmth. Comforting, encompassing, intoxicating warmth, unlike anything any blanket he'd ever fallen asleep under had made him feel. He had half a mind to curl up and stay asleep until he had to go back down to Hell to prepare for the final battle. Without bothering to open his eyes, he pressed up into the warmth. Or rather, tried to.

The second thing he registered was a feeling of being pinned down, which probably should've raised his suspicions at least a little, but he couldn't deny that this particular feeling wasn't unpleasant.

Giving a small sigh of content, he dragged his arm up from where it was hanging off of whatever surface he'd passed out on, and draped it across whatever was on top of him. Whatever was on top of him squirmed in response.

_Wait..._

His eyelids flew open. 

Aziraphale's head rested on Crowley's chest, and he found he'd flung his arm around the angels torso, lazily lifting and lowering with each slow breath Aziraphale took. Aziraphale was completely covering the demons body with his own, practically smothering him, and the angels left arm was wrapped around Crowley's waist, squished between the cushions and the demon under him.

A slight shift of his right leg told Crowley that both beings legs were entangled down on the other end of the sofa. 

_Oh._

The events of the previous night flooded Crowley's brain all in a rush. He recalled his conversation with Aziraphale, just before he'd fallen asleep, and knew he'd purposely insinuated the angel should sleep with him on the couch, but after Aziraphale's obvious diversion from the discussion, he hadn't thought he would actually take him up on it.

Not that Crowley was complaining.

He'd never admit it, both for prideful reasons and because such a thing was outright dangerous for a demon of Hell to even think about, but this situation was one he'd fantasized about more than occasionally. For centuries, the desire to be this close to the angel had weighed on his mind, the longing for this kind of tender intimacy from Aziraphale stronger than even his own demonic power. 

Now that his repressed fantasy had just come to reality, he almost couldn't handle it. 

With wide eyes, and a hand he tried to make stop trembling with minimal success, he brought the arm that wasn't currently smushed between him and the cushions up to rest on Aziraphale's shoulder blades, and tentatively threaded his fingers through Aziraphale's hair. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

 _Holy shit,_ if there was and ever would be a tangible definition of 'heavenly', Crowley had just found it. 

It was so soft, he couldn't resist gently dragging his fingers through the angels locks over and over.

Aziraphale stirred at the feeling, and Crowley froze instantly. He leaned his head into the demons touch as he let out a quiet satisfied moan, not unlike the ones he voiced when biting into a particularly tasty dessert. The arm Aziraphale had pinned around Crowley's waist tightened slightly while he continued snuggling deeper into the demon under him.

The intimacy of it all was so much, and at the same time not enough. Crowley worried his racing heartbeat could be heard throughout the entire bookshop, was going to wake up Aziraphale and then it would all be over. He'd waited 6,000 years for a moment like this and didn't want it to end so quickly.

 _Please stay asleep_ , he thought desperately. _Please stay asleep just a little longer, I just need a little longer, please..._

Gradually the arm around Crowley relaxed, and Aziraphale stopped moving, staying blissfully asleep. Even after several minutes of Aziraphale not showing any signs of awakening, Crowley didn't dare move and risk ruining the moment between them. An hour passed like this, during which Crowley felt himself growing drowsy once more. The feeling of safety that came from being so close, so protected by his angel was something he never wanted to give up, was something he knew he'd miss the most after Armageddon now that he knew exactly how it felt to sleep in the arms of Aziraphale. 

He'd nearly fallen asleep again himself when an abrupt banging on the front door of the shop startled Aziraphale out of unconsciousness. 

"Mmm?" The angel gave a tired hum as he lifted his head off Crowley's chest. For a second, Aziraphale glanced around as if he didn't know where he was. Sleeping for the first time in six millennia is a surefire way to leave someone a bit disoriented. Then he made eye contact with a bleary-eyed Crowley. "Oh - OH!" he exclaimed, yanking his arm out from between his friend and the couch and pushing himself upright. "I'm so very sorry Crowley. I meant to stay on my own side, I..."

"Angel, it's fine, you're fine." Crowley mumbled, a little dazed at being woken so suddenly. "Could you, though...?" He gestured between himself and Aziraphale, who was still straddling him.

"Right, yes, of course." Disentangling their legs, Aziraphale got up off the sofa and began smoothing out all the creases in his outfit, pretending he wasn't flushing in the face. Another knock on the door sounded, capturing the attention of both entities.

"You've got a customer." Crowley said, leaning backward over the arm of the couch to see through to the front of the shop. Sure enough, a confused looking couple were reading over the hours sign Aziraphale had posted outside.

"Ah, oh right, I'd forgotten I'd planned to have the shop open today." Straightening out the cuff of his sleeve, he glanced over at Crowley. "Would you mind if I opened for a few hours before we go out today?" 

Crowley looked up to meet the angels eyes. "No, go ahead, sure." 

Aziraphale smiled quickly before making his way around the sofa, grabbing Crowley's sunglasses off the table and handing them to the demon. Crowley wordlessly grabbed them and put them on, allowing his fingers to brush over Aziraphale's as he did.

The contact was neither lost on the angel nor mentioned as he left the room to answer the door, leaving Crowley to revel in the events of the morning. 

Alone in the back room, Crowley sank down into the couch cushions again, already beating himself up over having such soft thoughts mere days before he was supposed to be battling the angel that had just been on top of him. He ran a hand over his face and pushed himself up out of the seat.

Through the morning, Crowley hung around the shop, keeping a bit of distance from Aziraphale since he wasn't quite ready to address what had transpired. He was looking over a stack of books Aziraphale hadn't gotten to sorting yet when the angel in question hurried around the shelf Crowley was hiding behind with a panicked look in his eyes.

"The archangels," Aziraphale muttered in a rushed whisper. "They're coming down here, you have to go before they find you here." 

Well. Looks like he wouldn't have to address it at all.

"Er, alright." Crowley stammered, scanning the room for an escape route. _The window in the back room._ He turned sharply on his heel and made a break for it, nearly tripping over the stack of books at his feet. He would have, if not for Aziraphale grabbing into him and steadying him before he could hit the floor. The commotion of such attracted the attention of a few nearby customers, but Crowley paid them no mind, trying not to linger on the feeling of Aziraphale keeping him upright. 

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine." Crowley dismissed, squirming out of Aziraphale's grip and returning to leaving. "Look, eh, call me later, we'll meet up another time. Later. Bye." Crowley called over his shoulder and ignoring the 'aww' he heard from one of the patrons.

The demon just barely made it out of the shop via back room window before Gabriel and Sandalphon entered the shop via front door.

Perhaps in the coming weeks, when they'd have averted the end of the world and what came after, they'd allow themselves to talk about and maybe engage in more of that intimacy both of them so clearly craved. But for now, Crowley settled for reimagining all that had happened that morning on the way back to his flat.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a line from "Do I Wanna Know" by the Arctic Monkeys


End file.
